


No Place Like Home

by Josey (cestus), junko



Series: Shattered Souls [13]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Final Part. Renji has made peace with his new state, but what will the Soul Society make of it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Place Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a canon divergence that takes place after the Aizen’s betrayal and before the Bount Arc.

Zabimaru, in fact, did know the way; Renji just closed his eyes and let his nose take him. The training facility looked remarkably like the one under Urahara-taicho’s place. He wasn’t sure he particularly liked any of his new colleagues all that much. Though, having peeked over her shoulder, Renji had to say he approved of Yadoumaru Lisa’s reading material wholeheartedly. He thought, given time, he could warm up to Muguruma Kensei, though the reverse seemed far less likely.

That little Sarugaki Hiyori, however, was just a pain in the ass. 

Renji’s current number one goal in life was to grab those blond pig-tails and give them a good yank. That, and figuring out how to dodge her damn trainers. He was getting awfully tired of getting kicked in the head. It was like being back at the Eleventh again... only more random.

As bad as Sarugaki was, Hirako Shinji wasn’t much better. At least, for the moment, Hirako was busy taunting Ichigo. Renji was taking a break on a sloped hill, half-heartedly watching the battle as it raged behind the pink kidō barrier Hachi maintained. Renji just got back from having been sent to fetch bento boxes for the crew. They were currently loudly arguing about who got what. Renji didn’t bother joining in. He knew he’d be lucky to get scraps. The Vizards seemed heavy on hazing the new guys.

Just like at the Eleventh.

He leaned back on his arms and waited for his turn back in the ring or for some order to perform some menial job. Renji let his eyes half-close against the constant, blaring sun, and let the familiar clang of steel relax him. Maybe this was just the cycle of his life: always starting over. Academy had been this crazy steep learning curve that ended in a whole new life in the Guard. He hadn’t lasted long at the Fifth, and then, it seemed like he was the new guy at Eleventh forever--every day spent clawing his way into the top ten, the inner circle. Just when he finally felt settled in there, it was bang! Gone again to learn how to be a lieutenant at the Sixth. 

This was just one more transfer. 

Hopefully, this time he could stay put for a while. Do some good. Fight Aizen’s army of... whatever was coming.

He’d be ready for the battle. It wasn’t taking him long at all to figure out how to call up his inner Dog. Turns out, that bastard was always just below the surface, jumping at the slightest provocation. As for endurance... well, that was a quality Renji had always had in spades. Stray Dog had it ten times more. If anything, it was a struggle to take the mask off, break it down... learn to let go, quit.

In fact, they seemed to be teaching the two of them different things: Ichigo how to let the monster out; Renji how to put his demon on a leash, collar it.

Weirdly, the Vizards seemed to appreciate his problem more. They had nothing but belittling teases for Ichigo. They harassed Renji, too, but it was in a different way, as though they already respected him as an insider. 

Maybe it was the Court Guard thing. It was clear that the lot of them had served--captains or lieutenants, the whole crew. Well, except Hachi, but he’d done his duty in the kidō corps, clearly. 

In fact, the strength of their reiatsu had Renji automatically showing deference with “sirs” and “ma’ams,” which they cheerfully mocked him about. Didn’t stop him. Even though he got a huge lecture from Hirako about how the Vizards considered themselves separate from the Soul Society. Whatever. Renji still figured maybe Muguruma Kensei and a couple of the others secretly appreciated his instant recognition and respect of their former rank.

Besides, once a soldier, always a soldier.

 _We just serve a new army,_ Zabimaru agreed with a low growl.

 _Same team, new name,_ Renji agreed.

Something hit Renji on the head. An empty bento box? “Garbage detail!” Sarugaki commanded in a shrill tone.

Renji pulled himself up with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

#

Even though Urahara helped Renji compose an innocuous report, Soul Society had not been put off for long. That’s why midnight a week later found Renji in the middle of the dusty yard in front of Urahara Shōten, kicking his heels and waiting to see who would come through the senkaimon. Urahara stood behind him and between the two of them they were probably generating enough tension to power half of Karakura.

As the final door slid open, Renji sucked in a breath. Two figures strode forward proceeded by fluttering black butterflies. The first, Renji recognized instantly. The person he’d been dreading most to see--Kuchiki Byakuya. Even under the flickering fluorescent, Byakuya managed to give off a regal, imposing impression, with the hems of his captain’s haori fluttering in the evening breeze. Gray eyes seemed to bore straight into Renji’s soul, exposing all his secrets.

_Broken._

Renji shook off the feeling of being pinned under Byakuya’s gaze with effort. He turned his attention to the other soul coming through. The other was someone who seemed to have horns poking out from a thinning, receding hairline. Renji didn’t have any idea who this man was, but his appearance caused Urahara to take in a breath of surprise or recognition.

Despite the desire to cringe or bluster, Renji stood his ground. Let Kuchiki make the first move.

Silence stretched uncomfortably. Finally, Urahara trilled, “Akon! So lovely to see you again! Come, let’s have some tea and catch up!” 

Then, suddenly Urahara had whisked the other visitor off somewhere, leaving Renji staring at his...the captain. Despite the lack of outward expression, Renji got the distinct impression he was being examined. Finally, Byakuya said blandly, “You’ve changed.”

Renji almost laughed. “Yeah... I, uh, had a little accident.” He stopped himself. What the hell was he saying? Why not just admit to being... whatever the hell he was now? A Vizard? Did the captain even know what that meant? 

“An accident?” Byakuya repeated. You could have preserved apricots with his tone it was so dry.

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. Shit. What was it about this guy that always made Renji feel like a babbling idiot? “So, yeah,” Renji continued, because what the hell. “I blame Kurotsuchi, frankly. Who thought it was a good idea to try to give me a secret mission without my consent? Did you agree to that?”

“I most assuredly did not.”

The vehemence in Byakuya’s voice surprised Renji. It also deflated the self-righteous anger that had building. “Wait.. what? Are you saying you didn’t know?”

“I was only debriefed fully an hour ago, when it was very clear that things had already gone horribly wrong. If we could get out of the street, I will explain everything.”

#

Akon, Akon, they sent Akon. Kisuke wasn’t sure whether to click his heels in glee or panic. There was merit to both arguments.

He wrapped his fingers in his old apprentice’s lab coat and hustled him towards the shop leaving Abarai to deal with Byakuya. (And hadn’t he grown up nicely. Kisuke could almost see where Abarai had been coming from with the dating comment.)

Akon was smirking. Kisuke glared at him, slid open the shop door and shoved him inside, waiting only to check that no one had followed them before slamming it closed and turning to snap, “What happened to that last shipment of reishi? Do you have any idea how long it takes to convert it manually over here?”

“There’s a bottleneck in the supply line,” Akon replied with a shrug. “You’re getting the excess. If there isn’t any, I can’t send it. Kurotsuchi will notice.”

Which was fair enough, Kisuke supposed, though that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Fix it as soon as you can, it’s proving inconvenient,” he acquiesced grudgingly. 

Behind him, Tessai, against Kisuke’s explicit orders, cracked open the inner door and peered out. “Tensho, do we have-” he began, then flung the door wide and boomed, “Akon!” as he emerged to embrace the rather stunned looking Third seat. They hadn’t seen each other since the old days, when Akon was half the size he was now and Tessai had decided he was in need of coddling.

“Tsukabishi-sama,” Akon squeaked from behind biceps the size of hams. 

Kisuke smirked at him, entirely unrepentantly. If Akon thought he could come here, onto Kisuke’s home ground and play games, he was going to find out that Kisuke played harder, better, and more lasting ones. He also had better weapons.

“Akon was just telling me what he’s doing here,” Kisuke said, lying through his teeth.

Akon shot him a panicked look as Tessai shoved him back a foot or so and stood staring at him, shaking his head slowly. “So many unfilled requisitions,” Tessai said finally. “Tea first. Tea and cake and then questions.”

‘Cake?’ Akon mouthed as Tessai about-faced him towards the inner doors.

Kisuke waved him on his way, took one last look out at the pair in the yard to check no one had drawn any weapons and then followed. 

Tessai had Akon in the kitchen already, ensconced at the table with a plate of cake, a tall pile of cookies and a huge mug of tea in front of him. Akon was staring between all of it with an expression of hopeless resignation. Kisuke felt not one iota of sympathy, though he did make a mental note to ensure both shinigami were on their way home before all that processed kishi caught up with Akon’s insides.

He took a seat opposite, folded his hands neatly into his sleeves and said, “Did you help him design it?”

The tiny flash of guilt in Akon’s eyes was all Kisuke needed to know the truth. He blinked, inhaling through a sigh. Back-stabbing might be an inevitable part of life in Soul Society but Kisuke always found it disappointing when it happened to him. Particularly when he didn’t see it coming.

“He didn’t get anything,” Kisuke continued, keeping his tone even and just on the cool side of polite. Akon paled further, telling Kisuke that Mayuri was not going to be happy with that piece of news. Good. It served him right for being clumsy. The fact that only luck and Lisa’s sex drive had prevented disaster was quite beside the point and not something that anyone in Soul Society ever needed to know.

“Eat, eat,” Tessai interjected, urging the plate of cookies closer. Since Akon had been doing his best to edge away from them, the result was mildly amusing.

With an expression of desperate resignation, Akon took one and bit into it. Kisuke gave him a beatific smile and watched in silence as he chewed and swallowed. Oh, yeah, that was going to be uncomfortable.

He allowed Tessai to force an entire slice of pound cake on him before saying, “On the other hand he did get a personal introduction to the Vizard.” Ah, timing. Cake crumbs went everywhere. Kisuke wielded his new fan with aplomb and Tessai rescued everyone with a damp cloth and a disapproving stare. 

Akon scrambled for some dignity, failed to find it, and settled for abject apology instead. “I told Mayuri it was a bad idea, but you know how he gets. The moment he found out it hadn’t been you behind the research, he knew they were still kicking around here somewhere. When I told him if he wanted to know, he should just ask you, he waved me off. He had some sort of wild idea that you’d be more impressed if he got the information himself, I think.”

That sounded like Mayuri. Considering he spent a goodly proportion of his time running down every other scientist in his acquaintance, he spent even more attempting to prove himself to them. Insecurity, thy name was ever Kurotsuchi, Kisuke thought to himself sadly. 

“What were his plans, do you know?” he asked.

Akon shook his head, pushing his plate away and dusting the crumbs from his fingers. He looked a little green. “Not for certain, though I can make a pretty good stab at it. He’s always fired up about dissecting the odd hollows that keep turning up and he looked fit to explode when he got back from First division with orders to send someone with Kuchiki.”

It didn’t take a genius to put those pieces together. Unfortunately for Kisuke, he found them far too simple to assemble and the picture they painted was typically Mayuri. Bloody and vile. “And the specifics of your orders?” he asked. This was the crunch of it. Were they looking at a slow creeping death or something faster. 

“Flexible,” Akon replied. “Primarily they’re the same as Kuchiki’s, to assess whether Abarai and the other Vizard are an imminent danger to Soul Society. Since I know for a fact that they’re not, or you would have said something years ago, all I need is enough evidence to prove it to the folks back home. If I’m happy, Kuchiki has orders to extend the offer of alliance to them, with the additional option of re-enlistment, if they’re interested.” 

That... was unexpected. “And Tessai and myself?” Kisuke asked. It was a disgusting moment of vulnerability, one that Akon acknowledged with a quick shake of his head, downcast eyes, and a quiet, “Sorry.”

Kisuke swallowed both hope and resentment. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t want his old job back. He had plans. Solid, long term plans that would change so many things for the better, and if he was back there, caught up in the day to day pettiness of it all, he’d lose sight of them, he knew he would. But that didn’t stop him longing for it, just a little. To breath the reishi rich air of Soul Society one more time. To walk the streets of the Rukongai, perhaps visit some of the people and places he still missed, maybe get to know some new ones.

He spread his fan wide to hide the sadness he couldn’t, for the moment, control and pushed a hand firmly to the top of his hat as he stood. “Then we shouldn’t delay,” he said. “If it’s evidence of the scientific variety you need, that is what you’ll have. If you would be so kind as to follow me, Akon-san, I think you’ll find the Urahara-shōten can provide.”

#

Renji decided that there were more rooms in Urahara’s place than was actually physically possible, because Tessai had shown him and the captain to a room he’d never seen before. It suited Byakuya perfectly, however. It could have been lifted straight out of the Soul Society with shoji screens, tatami, and za-button pillows. There was even an ikebana arrangement in the toko, tastefully positioned beneath a scroll painting. They were sitting at a low table with an amazing looking green tea pound cake sitting between them. Renji had been nibbling nervously, and he got the distinct impression that the captain didn’t approve. But what the hell else were you supposed to do with cake, if not eat it?

“I suppose hunger is a side effect of your... accident,” the captain noted blandly.

Renji paused with another finger full of cake halfway to his mouth. He gave Byakuya his best ‘fuck you’ glare and stuffed the whole piece into his cheeks just to be petulant. “Nah,” he said around the crumbs that spilled out over his lips. “I’ve always been like this. My immense spiritual pressure needs a lot of intake, you know. Always has.”

“I see.”

Renji rolled his eyes, and reached for another slice. “Weren’t you going to tell me what you’re doing here and how much trouble I’m in?”

“A fair amount, I suspect. Though the full extent of it remains to be seen,” Byakuya said, turning the plate in front of him slightly. “However, that’s not our immediate concern. I was sent to assess the situation and decide if you represent a danger to the Soul Society.”

Renji grew still. His body tensed, ready for a fight. “So do I?”

“As you didn’t immediately attack the scouting party, I would say not. The 12th’s Third Seat will have a better sense of the technicalities of your situation,” Byakuya looked up from his plate to pin Renji under one of his patented icy stares. “Are you... in control?”

Renji nodded, feeling the instant swell of Stray Dog’s spiritual pressure at the ready. He lifted a hand to his face, “Oh yeah. You wanna see?”

“Perhaps once we’re back at the Sixth.”

Renji almost choked. Cake bits misted the air between them. “What? You’re taking me back?” He put his hands on the table, ready to scramble to his feet. “Am I under arrest?”

“I fail to see the crime,” Byakuya said flatly. Lifting the fork, he proceeded to divide the cake into smaller and smaller cubes as he spoke. “It is, perhaps, against our laws to experiment with a soul in such a way to cause... transformation, but I’m not here to investigate the situation that led to your... new state. My orders are to decide how to proceed from this point forward. For my part, I see no problem with your return to service. Frankly, I would prefer my lieutenant back under my command, not under the hypnotic thrall of a captain of a division who has no business interfering with me or mine.”

 _His lieutenant?_ Go back to the Soul Society with full privileges and not as a prisoner or some lab experiment for Kurotsuchi? This was an option Renji hadn’t even considered. He’d thrown his lot in with his new colleagues, figuring there was no way he’d be accepted back into Soul Society. With all of Urahara-taichō’s hesitance, Renji had determined to make his peace with the idea of doing his part in the war against Aizen here, in the human world. But... could he do more if he returned?

“We can leave as soon as you’re ready, fukutaichō,” Byakuya said simply, as if the matter were decided.

Typical of Byakuya to assume victory. 

Renji’s eyes narrowed and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. The familiar, tightly-control reiatsu on the opposite side of the table seemed smaller somehow. Or... was it that the distance between them had shrunk?

 _Heh,_ came the raspy voice of Stray Dog. _We could take ‘im._

Renji wasn’t as sure. A rematch would certainly be interesting though. “What about the others? The ones Kurotsuchi wanted Zabimaru... I mean, me to spy on?”

“What of them? They will have to decide for themselves if they wish to accept the offer of re-enlistment that I have been authorized to extend. I’m hoping, however, that you will make introductions for me, fukutaichō?”

Renji’s brain felt stunned. It was all he could do to nod, “Uh, sure. I think maybe I can do that for you, sir.”

#

“He wants me to go back with him.”

That announcement came quicker than Kisuke had expected. It had been less than twenty four hours since Soul Society had arrived. 

Kisuke flicked off his screen and turned towards Abarai, who was lurking in the doorway, and waited for the rest. Something along the lines of, ‘Thanks for everything, gotta go, hope never to run into you again,’ would suit the situation quite well, Kisuke supposed. 

Yet again Abarai surprised him. He wandered further into the lab, flopped down on the chair next to Kisuke and said, “What d’you reckon, taichō? You want me to go?”

There was that word again; taichō. The first time Abarai had used it, Kisuke had dismissed it as a slip of the tongue during a stressful moment, but in the days that followed Abarai had continued to use it. 

Nor was it an empty title. Along with the rank came the respect and deference that went with it, albeit couched in very Abarai ways. Kisuke was more likely to get a, ‘Sure thing, taichō,’ and a backwards wave, than a salute and a ‘Yes, sir’. But every evening, without fail, Abarai came and gave what amounted to a verbal report, outlining his day’s activities and bringing things of potential interest to Kisuke’s attention. 

Despite no longer officially holding any rank, Kisuke had apparently acquired a lieutenant, and a very good one at that. He could quite see why Kuchiki wanted him back. And why Abarai would want to go. That was where his life was. The one everyone thought he’d lost forever.

What he couldn’t see was why Abarai felt the need to ask his permission before he went. Unless, despite everything, he really did regard Kisuke as his captain. And if he did, then what he was looking for was orders. Now there was a disconcerting thought after all these years. 

Kisuke studied his fukutaichō, who was now fiddling with the pleats on his hakama and studiously not meeting Kisuke’s eye. That was interesting. Was he worried he might have crossed some boundary by even asking? If their command structure were a traditional one then, Kisuke supposed, he would have done. Best to reassure him on that front first then.

“I suppose it rather depends on how you feel about going,” he said. Giving direct orders had never been Kisuke’s strong point.

Abarai gave him an incredulous look and then shook his head, muttering something about going from the sublime to the ridiculous. He smoothed out the fabric over his knees, and finally looked up. “I’ll go wherever I’m needed most.”

#

Despite having what amounted to a husband and 2.2 kids, Kisuke had never really considered himself the parental type. Therefore it came as a bit of a shock to find himself in the training grounds the night Abarai was due to leave, feeling like a fretting mother on her child’s first day of school.

At the bottom of the hill, Tessai was making last minute adjustments to the senkaimon while Akon and Byakuya waited a polite distance away. Every couple of minutes Byakuya would glance up the slope towards them and his lips would flatten a little more. Kisuke was tempted to wave, though he doubted that would go down well.

He was also somewhat tempted to go down there, bop Byakuya on the nose and say, ‘he calls me taichō now, so he’s mine’. But again, it probably wouldn’t be well received. Neither would it be helpful to their cause.

Fingers wrapped tight around Benihime behind his back, Kisuke resisted the urge to straighten collars and adjust badges. He puffed out a breath, bounced on his heels, and asked for the tenth time, “You are certain that this is what you want?” 

Abarai glanced over at him with a half smirk. Despite the bravado, Kisuke could feel the nervous energy rolling off him. “Sure, why not.” The fukutaichō seemed to falter and search his eyes, “You still think it’s the right thing to do, right?”

So long as they don’t ambush you the moment you step through the gate, Kisuke thought. But no, that was why Kisuke had insisted on using their senkaimon, despite the risk of travelling without butterflies. Soul Society wouldn’t know exactly where they were coming out and with Abarai’s new ‘skills’ they’d be hard pressed to catch him if he needed to escape. Armed with Kukaku's current whereabouts, if the worst happened, he should be able to make a clean getaway.

“Absolutely,” Kisuke replied with a level of confidence he wasn’t sure he really felt. He’d talked it over with Yoruichi and Isshin and they’d both agreed this was for the best. Renji’s skills were most exploitable on the inside for now. “And you know what you need to do?”

Abarai nodded solemnly. “I think so. You know I suck at all this subterfuge stuff, right?”

“Just be yourself, that’s all it’ll take.” His personality would do the rest. From the way Yoruichi described it, the fukutaichō was popular with his peers, respected by his superiors and damn near worshipped by his subordinates. If they could tap into that... 

Tessai stood up and waved, indicating he was happy with the co-ordinates. This was it then. Kisuke reached under his haori and pulled out a flat padded envelope which he held out to Abarai. “Ishda said you enjoyed some of the books in the high school library. They’re a little on the bulky side to carry around so I put together a gadget that runs on reishi rather than electricity. We've loaded it up with some titles you might enjoy.” He turned it this way and that in is hand. “Lisa said she put something special on? I thought it best not to inquire too deeply.” From Abarai’s smirk, he knew exactly what sort of reading material was implied. “Just be careful and...” He shot a flat look down the hill at Byakuya. “Much as it pains me to say it, let him watch your back. Despite everything, I don’t think he’ll let anyone throw you to the wolves.” Or more specifically, the 12th.

“Let him try, I’ll kick his ass.” Renji grunted at the thought, and then grew serious. He hefted the package in his hand, “Hey, thanks for this, Urahara-taicho. And, you know... everything.”

 _I think I will miss the boy,_ Benihime commented. _Though I suspect life will be quieter without him._

 _Indeed. He has been an adventure,_ Kisuke replied. _The shop will feel quite the empty nest without him._

Slipping his arm through Abarai’s, he turned them towards the senkaimon. “There’s a movie,” he said as they picked their way down the hill. “It’s quite old, by human standards, but fun all the same. It’s all about some adventurers lost in a strange land trying to get home by following a road made up of yellow bricks.” He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all desperately complicated and involves things that not even Mayuri could come up with.” 

It was also an excellent metaphor for Soul Society; the mad charlatan ruling a city of fools all set to pointless tasks to keep them busy while the world beyond the walls went to hell; but now was probably not the time for a crash course in revolutionary politics via American literature.

“Anyway the important thing is that we’re only a click of your heels away should trouble arise.” They had reached the bottom of the slope. Akon and Byakuya joined them in front of the senkaimon, mist from the dangai already starting to pool around their feet. 

Kisuke nodded at Akon, pointedly ignored Byakuya and patted Abarai’s arm as he released it. “Just remember not to wear the glasses and you’ll be fine” he said and, ignoring Abarai’s suddenly confused expression, took up a pose to the right of the gate, opposite Tessai.

“If you are ready, gentlemen?” One hand hanging firmly onto his hat, Kisuke pressed Benihime to the gate post, releasing the last level of security that prevented Soul Society from invading his home. The double barrier of the senkaimon slid open, the sudden influx of reishi setting clothing fluttering like butterfly wings. 

Akon stepped through without so much as a backward glance, Abarai hard on his heels, face set and determined.

Much to Kisuke’s surprise, Byakuya lingered. Beyond the necessary pleasantries, they’d managed to avoid speaking to each other entirely during the shinigami’s stay in the living world and Kisuke had rather hoped to keep it that way. Apparently it was not to be.

Hard grey eyes looked Kisuke up and down and a few realisations came firmly home to roost in Kisuke’s mind. This was not the temperamental brat he remembered. But neither, he suspected, was this the captain who had watched impassively as his sister was sentenced to death and had beaten his lieutenant for daring to defend her. No, this man was a lot more dangerous. 

“Urahara Kisuke,” Byakuya said, “You will not attempt to interfere with my fukutaichō again.” There was absolutely nothing of a threat in his tone, just a simple statement of fact. It would have been quite chilling, if Kisuke were the type to be chilled by such things and not challenged. 

He dropped his fan by half an inch and inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Then I would suggest, Kuchiki-sama, you ensure nothing happens to make it necessary.”

That seemed to give the noble pause. Perhaps some of his assumptions were being reassessed as well. Then with an upward jerk of his chin, he spun away and vanished through the senkaimon. 

As the gate closed and faded into nothingness, it seemed to Kisuke that he could smell the light floral scent of cherry blossom and hear the distant roar of a nue.

 

  
_Fine_   


**Author's Note:**

> And so things draw to a close.... at least for now. Please let us know if you want the story to continue! This was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you all have enjoyed reading it as much as Josey (cetus) and I have enjoyed writing it.


End file.
